


Weak at the Knees

by Nadare



Series: Connor's First [5]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Bedroom Sex, Consensual, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Making Out, Post-Canon, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Slow Romance, Some Humor, Upgrades
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:53:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24499744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nadare/pseuds/Nadare
Summary: As Connor started to reach for his underwear, Hank snatched his wrist. He was a touch out of breath, heart rate heightened significantly. “I’ve wanted to see this ever since you told me you were fully functional. Can I?” The breath caught in Connor’s throat before he nodded.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Series: Connor's First [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1107594
Comments: 22
Kudos: 202





	Weak at the Knees

**Author's Note:**

> While familiarity with the first four parts of the series helps, this can be read as a standalone story.

_A/N: How do these things keep getting longer each time? ^^;;_

* * *

**_Connor's First_ **

_Part 5: Weak at the Knees_

“Well,” Hank said, his voice softer than usual due to five days of coughing and hacking. “What's the verdict?”

It was late afternoon on day six of his sick leave, Hank sitting the arm of the couch, a thread of clear anxiety in him as he tapped the top of his knee with his index finger while waiting for a response.

Connor read the thermometer readout from the device in his hand, then surveyed the man in front of him. It was true that his health was much improved. Hank's color had returned, his fever all but gone. He was even sleeping easier.

All that worried Connor was any possible lingering fatigue. Just because he seemed all right didn't mean his energy levels were back to normal. It wouldn't do to pass out after a few hours of high activity.

“98.4,” he announced calmly, tucking the thermometer into his pocket. “We can go back to work tomorrow if you think you're up for it.”

Hank shook his head. “About damn time. I've been going stir crazy this last day or so.”

Connor motioned to the house interior pointedly. Beyond the music collection, TV, and half a shelf full of dog-eared books, entertainment was sparse. “Is it my fault you've only got so much here to amuse you?”

“No,” Hank conceded grumpily. “But I've learned my lesson. Never play Monopoly or Scrabble with you.”

Smiling, Connor tilted his head. “The first game is merely a manner of deducing probability by purchasing the most highly trafficked properties, and the second…well, I have a very big vocabulary at my command.”

“Vocabulary?” Hank replied, eyeing Connor. “I think you mean cheating if you're able to draw upon the dictionary inside your own head. No mercy for me, your supposed boyfriend.”

Connor realized it was the first time Hank had used the term, looking slightly self-conscious about it. “Is there some unwritten rule I’m unfamiliar with that says otherwise?” he asked, choosing not to draw any attention to the development.

“Well, no, but I was sick. You’re supposed to let me win,” Hank said off-handedly as he straightened.

“Would doing so have made you feel better?” Connor asked, if he had unintentionally committed a serious faux pas or if Hank was just griping.

“No, I’d want to win on my own terms.” A beat before Hank added, “Probably.”

Connor nodded, pleased to know he’d been right that Hank would have hated him for pretending to lose. “As I thought.”

Shaking a finger at Connor, Hank narrowed his eyes. “Just so you know a rematch is inevitable and I’ll wipe the floor with you.”

“Please do,” Connor said with a smile. “I do so enjoy a challenge.” Though he doubted victory would be so easy for Hank to attain. The effort would be appreciated if nothing else.

* * *

“This can’t be good,” Hank muttered to himself as he finished taking off his shoes and jacket upon arriving home the next day. Connor raised an eyebrow, following Hank’s eye line which ended on the kitchen table where an innocuous wicker basket laid.

“What?”

“It’s Deedra, my retired next-door neighbor. She comes over in the afternoon to let Sumo out for me,” Hank explained. “She’s sweet but can get a little overbearing at times.” He approached the basket as if it were a bomb, quickly snatching the note attached to the top off. 

“Let’s see...” Hank’s eyes widened as he read the note, letting it hang at his side after he had finished it. “Son of a bitch.”

Connor slipped the note from Hank’s fingers gently as he stood there scratching at his shoulder in agitation.

“ _Hank, I couldn’t help but notice that your houseguest isn’t sleeping on the couch anymore. I want you boys to be safe so please feel free to use the contents of the basket at will. Love, Deedra._ ” 

“Hmm,” Connor said, looking down into the basket where he found a wide variety of condoms and lubricants inside it. While he understood Deedra had overstepped her bounds, she’d also gone out of her way to be nice when she hadn’t had to. “There are some very nice brands here.”

Hank groaned into his hand. “If she knows and has gone to these lengths, that means everyone on the block does too.”

Putting a package of chocolate-flavored prophylactics back inside the basket, Connor turned to Hank. “Was it something you wanted to keep secret that badly?” he asked.

Connor had never put much thought into it because, for the most part, society had moved on from judging such relationships. Times truly had changed in that regard.

Hank let out a heavy breath. “It’s easy for you because no one’s known you for years, exchanging countless pleasantries as you go through life. Now I’ll just be that strange old bi cop who robbed the digital cradle.”

Connor smiled, charmed at the descriptor Hank had thrown out there. “But you are exactly that, aren’t you?”

“That doesn’t mean I want the whole street knowing it.”

Picking up the basket, Connor started for the bathroom. Keeping such intimate items in plain sight would likely make things more awkward between them and he wanted to avoid that at all costs.

“There’s no changing it unfortunately,” Connor said, maintaining a casual tone. “Best get used to it since I’m not going anywhere.”

Hank followed him, watching Connor kneel down and place the basket underneath the sink. “I didn’t say you had to, did I?”

The irritation in his voice was gone, worry present now that he’d offended Connor on some level. That wasn’t the case at all, but an apologetic Hank was a rare sight indeed.

“No, you didn’t,” Connor replied happily, stopping to kiss Hank on the cheek on his way out of the bathroom. “Now let me get started on dinner.”

Though he got busy fetching items from the fridge, Connor noticed that Hank didn't come out of the bathroom for a few minutes afterward. Perhaps his curiosity had gotten the better of him in seeing what Deedra had brought them.

Connor had to admit he was excited to start using some of it.

He was halfway through cutting a variety of vegetables for a stir-fry when a large wet nose nudged the back of Connor’s elbow. Looking down at his side, he smiled at Sumo who whined low in his throat.

“Impatient, are we?” He glanced back up at the cutting board, spotting a small piece of carrot that might help ease the beast’s hunger. As he went to grab it, Sumo in his excitement leaped upon his hip, causing the knife in Connor’s hand to slip and hit his index finger, the bright splash of blue a stark contrast against the white cutting board.

Connor inhaled sharply, bringing his hand up to his mouth as pain pulsed across his awareness in waves while Sumo retreated across the room as if he knew he’d done something wrong. His finger burned as he took a few deep breaths, realizing he’d cut himself deep, his system sluggish to help clot the wound. 

“Everything okay in there?” Hank called from the other room where he was reading, pitching his voice high to rise above the easygoing jazz music playing in the background. When Connor didn’t answer right away, distracted by the cut, he could hear Hank rise from his seat and walk towards the kitchen.

“Connor?” Said android met Hank’s gaze uneasily, bringing his hand down to the level of his chest. Without a word, Hank took in the situation, then crossed over to him. His eyes lowered to Connor’s injured hand. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Hank's fingers brushed against the wound, making him wince. His brow knitting in worry, Hank retrieved a paper towel from the roll situated on the counter and placed it against the cut, applying pressure.

“I'll have to restart the vegetables, I got blood on them.”

“Don't worry about that right now. Focus on stopping the bloo…”

Hank suddenly stopped, his head snapping up to stare in muted disbelief. Connor could practically see him playback the last minute when Connor had recoiled in pain once Hank had touched the wound.

He experimentally squeezed the hand in his and Connor couldn't help but flinch, the sting of the cut flaring up again. Hank’s gaze seemed to sear right through him, pinning him to the floor. “What the hell did you do, Connor? This isn’t your usual casual behavior when you get hurt. Your body's gone all tense and you're not looking at me properly.”

Feeling a bit uncomfortable, Connor pulled his hand from Hank's. He cleared his throat, trying to ignore the sudden butterflies in his stomach. “I visited Mr. Kamski again recently and asked him to tweak a few things in my base code.”

Hank nose crinkled in distaste, clearly annoyed. “I bet that asshole was more than happy to open you up and find out what makes a deviant tick. You sure he didn't do anything else to you while he was at it?”

“I have noticed nothing amiss so far.” If anything, Connor had noticed he was operating smoother than ever. The advantage of maxing out his reaction time.

Hank leaned against the edge of the counter as he crossed his arms. “Why did you do that, Connor? Why take the risk? I mean, this is the same man who was willing to sacrifice one of his precious androids to test if you had a conscience. He’s not exactly a trustworthy guy.”

Connor lifted the paper towel from his hand, staring at the smear of blue on his cut finger. “The ability to feel the full gamut of the human experience was very important to me,” he said, hoping Hank understood his reasoning. “Try as I might to simply take things as they come, I felt an immense barrier between us and wanted to cross it at least part of the way.”

"Okay, I guess I can understand that.” Hank stepped closer to Connor and laid a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him forward until their foreheads touched. “But no matter how much you try, you know we're always going to be different. I've accepted that, and you should too.

“Don’t sneak around behind my back. Let me know what's going on in that head of yours sometimes, okay, Connor?”

His forehead was warm, Connor reluctant to move away from Hank's rather touching gesture. Given his partner's dislike of the man he'd thought Hank would react worse than he had. Maybe it was a sign of how much he'd grown to see Connor as his own person.

“I'll try to remember that, Hank.”

After fetching the first aid kit from the bathroom, Hank carefully cleaned the wound and applied a bandage to Connor's finger. He gave it a quick peck, catching Connor off-guard by the action.

Hank smiled at him. “All good?”

Connor flexed his finger, an odd throbbing in the joint that eventually faded. Still, he relished in the novelty. “I believe so.” 

* * *

“We should stop for lunch,” Hank said shortly after they’d finished visiting a crime scene. One that for once seemed to be an open-and-shut case.

Connor turned around in the passenger seat to grab the lunch bag from the backseat. “I actually packed some this morning. Is a chicken salad sandwich adequate enough?”

Hank raised an eyebrow. “Look at you, going all domestic.”

“It is cheaper cooking your own food than going out to eat all the time,” Connor pointed out, waiting until Hank had finished calling in their break time into dispatch to continue. “Healthier for you and gentler on the environment as well.”

Hank took a left on the street, heading for a small park in the area. “Sometimes I think you spend too much time online, then I remember that for you being disconnected would probably leave a screaming void inside your head.”

Connor considered the matter briefly. “I would personally survive being cut off if I had to be, Hank, but several of my functions require such a connection.”

“Damned if you do and damned if you don't, huh?” Finished parking the car, Hank glanced at him. “Anyway, it's a nice day out so let's go eat.”

It only took a few minutes to find an empty bench, Hank and Connor taking a seat in short order, the wide branches of a tree looming overhead, providing some shade.

“I wondered what you were doing in the kitchen before we left,” Hank said, watching Connor pull out the sandwich he’d mentioned earlier, still cold from the ice pack it’d been sitting on in the bottom of the bag. Hank’s eyes went wide at the homemade potato chips, eagerly taking it all from Connor.

The rest of the items were a reusable bottle of water and some Thirium for himself. It was hardly a daily necessity, being something he usually ingested but twice a week, yet Connor wanted the injury on his finger to heal fast.

While Hank dug into the food, apparently more than happy with the chicken salad sandwich and potato chips, he watched Connor drink the blue blood from the corner of his eye.

A companionable silence fell between them for a time until wiping at his mouth with a napkin, nearly finished with his meal, Hank asked, “What’s that taste like anyway?”

“I can list the various components if you like, but the simplest explanation is much like you’re mostly composed of water and still need to drink it, Thirium the same purpose for me. It’s not really a matter of taste.”

“Oh, come on, you have to have an opinion on it.”

Staring at the bottle of blue liquid in his hand, Connor pursed his lips. “If you pressed me, I’d say it’s a bit on the sweet side.”

“There you go,” Hank said, clapping him on the shoulder in approval. “I knew you had a complaint in there somewhere.”

One corner of Connor's mouth rose in amusement. “You have weird ambitions, Hank.”

“It’s just nice to know you can dislike something,” he explained. “You're always so damn agreeable all the time. You know you can piss and moan like everybody else, right?”

Connor took another swig of his drink, mulling it over. “Of course.” The problem was there wasn’t much he had strong adverse opinions about, being something of an optimist. Connor preferred to focus his energy on the good in life than the bad.

His thoughts having gone that route, he looked at Hank, deciding to broach a matter he was very curious about.

“Hank, if I may ask, why didn't you have a problem kissing me, but holding hands the first time was enough to cause you to sputter in embarrassment?”

Hank looked like he'd been hit by something for a moment, clearing his throat into his hand while he recovered. “Well, I was under the influence the first time…”

“But you knew enough to stop when I said no.”

“I'm not an asshole. Even drunk, I'd never force myself on anyone.” Hank stroked his chin. “We talked about this already, didn't we? Whether or not you wanted to move forward. I’m glad we could talk about the consent issue before anything else happened between us. It’s reassuring that you're on board and I'm not taking advantage.”

While he was happy to hear Hank mention the subject, he'd also deftly avoided answering Connor's question. “So the hands then?”

A tinge of color rose in Hank’s cheeks. “To be honest, I've never been good with PDAs, not even with my ex-wife. Anyway, do it at home and it's not an issue.”

Connor logged the helpful information away for later. There were a great many things he wanted to try and he hoped Hank would be up for them.

Back at the precinct, while Hank reported the latest news of their case, Connor sat back in his seat and closed his eyes. He launched himself into the digital world with ease, traveling down pathways until his search bore fruit.

There were far more results than he anticipated and it took time for Connor to tag all the relevant ones. He started into the first with a large measure of interest, enthralled with what he found.

The results were much the same after a while, but Connor wanted to do his due diligence. It was important after all.

“Hey.” Connor was midway through finishing a video, momentarily ignoring Hank.

He snapped his fingers near Connor's face, breaking his concentration. Light annoyance chased Hank's features when Connor opened his eyes, focusing on his partner.

“Yes, lieutenant?”

Hank sat back down across from him. “What were you doing just now?”

“Watching gay porn.” Dropping the pen he’d been holding, Hank glanced around the station, but Connor had said it low enough no one else had taken any notice.

His eyes settled on Connor again in disbelief. “You were _what_?” he asked again, resting an elbow on his desk.

Connor wondered why the news was so shocking when Hank knew he had an insatiable thirst for knowledge about the world around him. “Per our discussion at lunch today, I felt it pertinent to delve deeper into the topic. I must admit it's thoroughly fascinating.”

“I'll bet it is.” Hank picked up his pen again. “You might want to do that elsewhere considering it's really not safe for work.”

He hadn't been hurting anything, but Connor nodded in understanding, marking the rest of his findings so he could go over them later since Hank was clearly uncomfortable with the activity.

“If I may remind you that you did say you wanted to know what I was thinking more often.”

The corners of Hank's mouth rose up, amusement flashing in his eyes. “Be careful what I wish for, huh?”

“Something like that,” Connor said, then switched tacks. “In any case, what did Captain Fowler have to say?”

“Ra-ra, go team,” Hank said, pumping a hand in the air sarcastically. “He’ll see the warrant comes through and then we can proceed as planned.”

“Excellent.”

Hank went onto the rest of his work, typing up the day's findings before standing up. Once he’d finished, he stretched out his arms and snatched his jacket off the coat rack in the corner. “Okay, Connor, let's go home.”

He followed on Hank's heels, touched that the man considered his home not just his own, but Connor's as well. A sense of belonging overcame him and he smiled as his chest tightened.

Home indeed.

* * *

“You know, I recently read you guys can live up to 173 years,” Hank said out of the blue over dinner the following night.

“What?”

Hank eyed him, proving he wasn’t about to be put off. “You heard me, Connor, don’t play dumb.”

Connor was silent for a few minutes, the subject not something he wanted to discuss at length. He supposed he had to say something to alleviate Hank’s worries though. “It’s not guaranteed, Hank.

“I could get shot in the head by a stray bullet at work and rupture several key components. Even if you replaced the parts and reactivated me, I wouldn’t be the same. Without the experiences that have led up to this moment, I’d be that sad deluded android you met at Jimmy’s bar six months ago.”

Holding up a hand, Connor cut Hank’s response off at the pass. “If it isn’t a bullet or other job-related violence, the best I could hope for is transferring my consciousness into another body, but the process isn’t perfect and things could get lost along the way. Perhaps important memories, who could say?

“That’s also not taking into account the fact I would be dooming another of my kind to die, which is not a fun prospect to consider.”

Hank stared at him. “Jesus, Connor, where the hell did that come from?”

Shrugging, Connor tensely picked at the edge of the tablecloth near his lap under the table. “I might have considered the matter once or twice.”

“No shit,” Hank replied, shaking his head. “But you have to know that you only have like 30 or 40 years with me before I bite it, right? Are you sure you want to stay with me? There’s no happy ending here, Connor.”

“I’m aware, yes. I doubt you expected to see androids in your lifetime so never say never. If it comes to that, I’m going to find a way to save you, Hank.

“After all, the world changed once and it can do so again,” Connor vowed solemnly, setting his jaw firmly, fully believing in his own sense of agency and power. “I’ll make it.”

Hank chuckled, his serious features belying the sound of mirth. “Somehow, I believe you.”

* * *

The horror movie, despite being highly acclaimed, was far too long, the short-lived glimpse of a tense atmosphere disappearing into a monotonous slough of corny jump scares. 

Hank moved from his corner of the couch and stopped against Connor’s side, one hand landing on his knee lightly. “Well, this is a bust.”

Another monster leaped at one of the main characters from the darkness on the television screen, their search for a vital token abandoned in the face of fear itself.

“It does feel as if our time could be better spent,” Connor admitted, his attention starting to shift completely to Hank sitting next to him. “A shame since the synopsis did seem promising.”

Moving closer, the hand on Connor’s knee moved to behind Connor’s back, quickly growing warm against him. “You never can tell,” replied Hank casually, then added, “We could make our entertainment.”

Beginning to realize Hank’s intentions, Connor asked, “What did you have in mind?”

“Those new settings of yours, exactly how dialed up are they?”

Connor turned to face Hank. “Would you like to find out?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” 

Though he thought he had prepared himself for it, Connor couldn’t help flinching when Hank pressed closer, annoyance flashing across Hank’s face in response.

“What?”

Connor hesitated for a second. “Last time you were very forward,” he explained patiently. “I don’t think you realize how specialized my model is. I have millions of receptors in my mouth for analytical purposes. Having so many activated at once can be overpowering.”

To his astonishment, Hank said, “I know that, Connor. When you were first assigned to me, CyberLife sent over your specs. I gave them a quick look, not that I understood much, but I know why you only use a few fingers when you taste something.”

Processing Hank’s words, Connor frowned. He had no reason to disbelieve him, but the idea of Hank seeing Connor laid out naked like that was frankly embarrassing. He was more than a little put out that CyberLife had done that without his consent.

“They sent you a manual on me,” Connor said flatly, distaste making his stomach roil the longer he mulled over the matter.

Hank touched his shoulder, getting Connor's attention. “I wasn’t very interested at the time. I barely glanced at it. Whatever else you’re hiding up your sleeve is safe, okay?”

He nodded, the reassurance enough to raise Connor’s spirits. He pulled Hank into a loose hug, the man against him patting his back a few times. “All right, enough with the mushy stuff. Let’s have some fun already.”

Pulling back a touch, Connor took a deep breath. “Hank.”

Hank was halfway on his back on the couch, Connor almost sitting in between his legs. A quick glance confirmed that even with the short talk they had engaged in, Hank was still up for things.

“Yeah?”

The words on Connor's tongue stuck temporarily, oddly nervous now that they had come to this point. “Can you let me explore at my own pace?”

He'd been overwhelmed previously and that was before Elijah had improved Connor's reaction to outside stimuli. Now he didn’t want to break at the simplest touch.

Shrugging, Hank silently waited for Connor to make a move.

Reaching out, Connor placed a hand on Hank's upper arm and his other one on the back of his neck, Hank’s skin hot under his fingers. Connor leaned forward, secretly glad Hank had not been drinking, leaving any question as to what he desired.

True to his word, Hank was pliant as Connor kissed him lightly, warmth shooting through him at the soft brush of lips. Screwing up his courage, he delved deeper by opening up his mouth, feeling his fingers tremble when Hank responded in kind, Connor’s tongue touching Hank’s own, his vision instantly swamped with information Connor utterly disregarded.

Hank twitched against him, his arms rising to lay on the back of Connor’s shoulders, the small movements he made enough to make Connor moan under his breath, struggling to maintain his self-control. Steeling himself, Connor kept on, turning his head to the right so he could secure a better angle, stroking his tongue beneath Hank’s.

Despite all his research, nothing could have prepared Connor for the slow give and take process between them, at how much he relished Hank’s honest reactions.

It was the way his partner’s face gradually flushed, his breath going off-kilter, how Hank clutched at him with a growing passion that ultimately made Connor dizzy, the bottom of his stomach going tight with tension.

Reluctantly, afraid he’d finish then and there, Connor closed his eyes and pulled away, striving to collect himself. He started when Hank touched him on the cheek, opening his eyes to see Hank smirking at him. “Yep, you are definitely more sensitive.”

“It was a gamble that clearly paid off,” Connor replied, his voice shaky. He eyed Hank, hoping his next question wasn’t too forward and that he was correctly reading the situation. “Would you like to proceed to the bedroom?”

Hank put his head to the side, looking at Connor like he’d gone crazy. “Like I’d say no?”

“I didn’t want to presume anything,” Connor replied, helping Hank to his feet. A loud snore from the corner of the room announced Sumo’s utter indifference to the pair’s interlude.

“Connor.” Hank started for the small hallway to the bedroom. “If you’re really unsure after everything we just did, maybe you need to have your head examined.”

Dodging a small pile of clothes on the floor in front of him, Connor frowned. “But Mr. Kamski assured me that everything is in perfect working order up there.”

Hank bit off a laugh, stopping them in the middle of the room, using a hand to take a grip of Connor’s tie. “That aside, I’ve never understood why you still wear CyberLife’s uniform sometimes.”

Connor laid a hand over Hank’s. “I’m not ashamed of what I am. At the end of the day, they’re merely clothes. I see no need to throw them out when they remain perfectly serviceable, Hank.”

Hank chuckled. “I have to admit they do look good on you,” he said, meeting Connor’s gaze playfully. “But so would a lot of things.” His hand slipped past up Connor’s, undoing the knot of his tie.

Connor’s pulse sped up, not used to being examined with such fervor. The tie slid smoothly from around his neck, Hank letting it dangle in the air before it escaped his grip and fell to the floor. Connor ignored his urge to tidy up, promising himself he'd do it later.

“Do you wish me to disrobe further?” Connor asked, silently tracking Hank’s vital signs, noting the excited state the numbers implied. Interest lit up Hank’s eyes at the suggestion in clear confirmation.

“A striptease you mean?” He grinned wolfishly. “That would be nice.” 

Connor shrugged off his jacket and reached for his shirt. As he began to take it off, he saw Hank tighten his fists, looking vaguely frustrated. Experimentally, Connor unzipped his fly, Hank biting his lower lip in response.

Heat flared up from his core and Connor nervously stepped out of his pants, acutely aware of Hank’s heavy gaze on him. There was something rather titillating about the situation, causing it to be doubly exciting.

As he started to reach for his underwear, Hank snatched his wrist. He was a touch out of breath, heart rate heightened significantly. “I’ve wanted to see this ever since you told me you were fully functional. Can I?”

The breath caught in Connor’s throat before he nodded.

With the utmost care, Hank pulled the piece of clothing down, exposing him completely. Connor wasn’t surprised to find he was partially erect, though Hank seemed taken aback by the discovery.

As far as equipment went, he was of average size, the flesh-colored appendage natural looking. Though Connor was sterile, because of his intricate internal systems, he was capable of achieving climax. Until recently, it hadn’t been something he’d been interested in exploring.

“Hmm, no Ken doll here,” Hank said. “Do you want me to touch you?” 

The very thought brought color to Connor's cheeks. “I don’t- I mean I…” He was stammering, a first for him.

Hank looked amused by his reaction. “All right, don’t blow a gasket or anything.” He began stepping away and this time Connor reached out for Hank, gripping his arm.

“No, I didn’t mean the idea was bad,” Connor explained, fighting to remain calm as he was shaking internally. “Far from it.” 

Observing Connor closely, Hank touched him where no else ever had. His sensors went into overdrive, breath instantly trembling, losing its steady rhythm. As Hank moved his hand, subtly applying pressure and friction, Connor groaned, his eyes closing.

Much like his tongue, the nerve endings down below were just as sensitive, if not more so. Each one of them was active, blanking out half his processing speed. Gone was Connor’s ever careful thoughtful approach, Hank sowing chaos inside of him. 

Hank suddenly paused and Connor half-opened his eyes, wondering why. He looked unsure, concern in his gaze. “You all right?” Hank asked softly.

Connor nodded quickly, suppressing the desire to drive himself forward and revel in the warm grip of Hank’s hand.

“Your…” Hank paused, seeming to decide on the right phrase to use. “Your LED was a solid red. It usually only pulses if you’re in some emotional distress so I wanted to make sure I wasn’t hurting you.”

Connor shook his head. “I assure you I am perfectly fine. While it is true my system registers your attention as an intrusion, an attack if you will, I am not averse to it.” He licked his lips. “I would very much like it if you continued, Hank.”

“Okay, I can do that. After such rousing enthusiasm, how could I not?”

True to his word, Hank resumed his attentions, Connor’s breathing becoming more unsteady, inner tension seizing his insides, various systems growing hot.

Though he tried to stop himself, Connor eventually pushed himself within Hank's fingers, his hips shifting back and forth minutely, jolts of heat shooting up his spine with every movement.

Hank’s hand briefly squeezed Connor harder down below, the man's mouth seizing Connor's to swallow the sharp gasp he gave in response.

It was too much for him when Hank began using his tongue against Connor's, his hands almost moving in concert.

With tears pricking his eyes, so grateful he'd had the foresight to consult and quicken his internal reaction times with Kamski, Connor ripped his mouth from Hank's and moaned, coming apart completely.

His fingers dug into Hank's shoulder as he shuddered, overwhelmed by the wave of utter bliss that swept him from head to toe, razing each nerve along the way.

What little thought Connor had been experiencing throughout the session was slow to return, Connor watching mutely as Hank took a step back from him.

Though he'd achieved sexual completion, Hank's hand was dry, proving that the two were different in that area. Connor consulted his own blueprints, finding that with the right accessory that the problem could be fixed if needed.

It had been nothing like he'd expected, yet better than anything he'd ever experienced thus far in his short life. Connor tried to convey everything he was feeling, struggling to attempt to broach it out loud. “Hank, I-“

Hank held up one hand. “One sec, Connor.” Hank looked a little uneasy, but not unduly put off. “That's the first hand-job I've done in a while.”

Which meant it had been several years. Hank rubbed the back of his head for a moment, finally laughing under his breath. “God, I feel like I'm the one who came.” He put out his hand in front of him, a visible tremor evident in it.

The heat in Hank's eyes when he looked at Connor glued him to the floor. “I would never have thought it of you, but you can be damn erotic sometimes.” He crooked one finger Connor's way. “Come here.”

His heart pounding, Connor crossed the short space that separated them. He was flustered, unsure what would happen next. “Yes, Hank?”

Grabbing Connor’s right hand, Hank pressed it against the front of his jeans, the hardness Connor found there making him flush anew.

“That is all from watching you fall to pieces in my hands. You didn't even have to touch me.” Hank smiled gently. “You did that, Connor, just you.”

Connor shifted his fingers against Hank's lower half, trying to judge size and heft. It was clear the fabric was straining to cover everything. “I-I'm flattered. Would you like me to return the favor?”

Hank watched him warily. “If you want to, I wouldn't object.”

“Good,” Connor replied eagerly, lying a quick kiss on Hank's lips, slowly pushing him to the bed where he took a seat on the edge of it. Connor knelt down, the carpet plush against his bare knees.

While attempting to affect a nonchalant attitude, Connor’s heart was racing double-time as he gently unzipped the front of Hank's jeans, then yanked at Hank’s briefs, unveiling what lay beneath them.

It wasn’t the largest he’d seen in the course of his research, but Connor found Hank suitably sized for someone of his build if a bit wider than he was anticipating.

Placing a hand on Hank’s thigh, Connor crept forward, slightly opening his mouth. He was startled when Hank abruptly moved back from him.

Confused, Connor looked up to see Hank with a hand over his face, muttering a series of numbers under his breath.

“Is there anything the matter?” Connor asked, perplexed at the sudden change in attitude.

Hank dropped his hand, revealing a face that had gone bright red.

“Sorry,” he replied uneasily, Hank’s voice strained. “I didn’t expect you to use your mouth first. Suppose I shouldn’t be surprised considering everything else you put in there but...”

Oh. Connor thought he understood the kneejerk reaction now. “Am I correct in assuming the idea of me taking you in was too much to handle?”

Hank nodded. “Yeah, you’re right on the money. Two more seconds and I would have been gone.”

Connor had to smile, grateful he had the same effect on Hank as Hank did on him. It leveled the playing field nicely. “Thank you very much for the compliment.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome.”

He hesitated to ask but needed to know the curt reply didn’t hide an underlying issue. It was almost as if Hank was annoyed with himself. “Are you mad, Hank?”

“More at the situation,” Hank confessed. “I’m old enough this kind of stuff should be a breeze and I’m acting like some stupid giddy teenager.”

Connor sat back on his heels, wondering if they should stop and try again some other time. “How long has it been for you?”

Hank’s gaze shuttered. “Since I’ve been with a man? Fifteen or so years.”

Though he didn’t say it out loud, Connor appreciated being included in that blanket statement without thought. Hank really had come far in his preconceptions about androids.

Though he risked ruining the delicate mood between them, Connor acted on the mad little impulse that lingered in the back of his mind because he feared he wouldn’t get another chance for a while.

“Hank, I don’t care about your staying power. You don’t have to impress me,” Connor announced, reaching for Hank’s lower half, the man against him starting in surprise.

The weight and heat upon his tongue were strange at first, all but filling Connor’s mouth. Adjusting to it shortly, he pushed himself further, applying a subtle suction, not shocked in the least when a sudden saltiness laced the back of his throat, Hank shuddering against him as he grunted roughly.

“You son of a…,” Hank whispered, his breath strained, his hands fisting the bed covers tightly as he bowed his head. A few minutes went by, leaving the pair in silence.

Connor sat back, licking his lips. He’d thought it would taste foul but there was a sweetness in the chemical make-up that was rather unexpected. “It only seems right that it goes both ways.”

Letting out a sigh, Hank sat back further on the bed, his features wary but relaxed. “Fair play, I guess, though I’d like a little more warning next time.”

And like that, Connor knew there would be one. Hank hadn’t been scared off by anything they'd done together. Thankfully.

“As far as the rest, we can take it slow,” Connor said, warmth filling his chest. “Like everything else we’ve done in this relationship.”

Hank began to put his clothes to rights, reminding Connor he should begin doing the same. “Yeah, but it’s a bit unfair to you since everything is new. You’ve gotta be chomping at the bit for some real action.”

Shaking his head, Connor finished pulling on his shirt. “It isn’t only physical intimacy I crave with you, Hank, though it is quite nice. It’s everything else.

“It’s seeing your grumpy face in the morning, managing to make you laugh, and hearing you sing along to your music when you think no one’s listening. I cherish those moments no one but me gets to witness. I could live off that alone if need be.”

Hank stared at him in thought before chuckling. “You sappy bastard.”

“It is wrong to think that way?” Connor questioned, worried he might have developed a fault.

Smiling, Hank held out his hand, pulling Connor down beside him on the bed. “No, those feelings are perfectly normal. Very human.”

“Then there's no problem?” Connor asked, desiring reassurance on the matter. In many ways, Hank provided the checks and balances that kept him on the path to normalcy and humanity.

“Nope,” Hank said, kissing the side of Connor's forehead, effectively silencing him for a time. “Now let's go to bed.”

Connor remained sitting on the bed as Hank disappeared into the bathroom, the whir of his electric toothbrush loud.

He thought back to what they'd just done, how far they'd come in conquering human and android relations together, and couldn’t wait to see what tomorrow would bring.


End file.
